


from, Halt

by aleanmeanaquamarine



Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Stress Relief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:28:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23744557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleanmeanaquamarine/pseuds/aleanmeanaquamarine
Summary: Being the Commandment isn't easy, certainly. But still, it's only paperwork, most of the time. How hard can it possibly be?Crowley's about to find out.Or, Stressed!Crowley gets a visit from Halt.
Relationships: Crowley Meratyn/Halt O'Carrick
Comments: 33
Kudos: 72





	from, Halt

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in two and a half hours. it's been a ride. i accept concrit, but please be nice about it

Crowley has had an awful fucking day. 

It’s like that sometimes, as the Ranger Commandment. Stress comes with the job- he knew what he was signing up for when he took the position.

But sometimes, it gets to be too much. 

He wakes up in a sweat that morning, half-mumbling about everything he has to do. A pit of dread settles into his stomach at just the thought of climbing out of bed, and he feels dangerously close to bursting into tears- not, of course, that he would ever admit that. 

He drags himself out of bed anyways, because  _ damnit,  _ he’s a functional fucking adult, and he’s got an important job to do, regardless of how he feels.

He’s finishing some important paperwork- he has to send it out today, or  _ someone  _ in Gallica is going to be  _ very _ angry with Ranger Clarke of Seacliff fief. And honestly, he would never dream of taking away the freedom that Rangers have. It’s an integral part of being in the force, bending and twisting the law as they please, but in the name of Herne, his Rangers have to stop annoying foreign governments, because the cleanup always falls to him. 

It’s then he realizes that he has a counseling meeting scheduled with King Duncan in- he checks the time-  _ five minutes _ , and he’s scrambling to make himself presentable, throwing on what’s hopefully not a dreadful combination of clothing. 

The amused look the King shoots at him when he arrives, barely on time, says that maybe he wasn’t as successful in his endeavour as he’d thought.

He plays it off easily, joking about a night spent at the tavern. 

He hasn’t been to the tavern in years, actually, as it’s not uncommon for him to be working late into the night. He’s a busy man.

Crowley barely manages to stumble through the rest of the meeting, half-occupied with his long,  _ long _ list of tasks he has to finish before the day ends. Much to his embarrassment, the king has to call for his attention a few times. He thinks that he’s never been more glad that he has an understanding ruler.

He continues to brainstorm as he distractedly walks back to his rooms. There are three new apprentices- Ranger Leon has just retired, and really, he deserves the peace and quiet, but it’s all the more work for Crowley to do. Maybe he can get some of the older apprentices to fill in for the fief? It’ll only be a few more months until the next Gathering, and he’s  _ sure  _ they can handle it…

Sometimes, Crowley thinks with a quiet laugh, being the Commandment is just trying to stay afloat in the ocean of responsibilities the job entails. 

The workload has been heavy, recently, with most of his usual helpers off to do other tasks- and it’s not as if he can fault them, anyways. The retired Rangers who sometimes lend a hand are no longer under his command, and while he’s sure that if he asked, they’d be glad to be of service, it’s still  _ his _ job, and they’ve done enough work for two lifetimes, anyways. He just wishes that, for once, Araluen could be a quiet, unassuming kingdom. 

He snorts. Who is he kidding- the Rangers alone are full of trouble, not to mention the  _ actual  _ criminals who are still at large. 

The mission reports that have come in this week are dull, but there’s always the chance of more trouble, so Crowley sits down and aims to get the responses back as soon as possible. He presses the heels of his palms to his eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath. The beginnings of a headache have started to form, and that is  _ definitely  _ not what he needs right now. 

Later, he’ll blame his distraction for the way he doesn’t notice the other presence in the room, for the way he jumps when a Hibernian-accented murmur comes out of nowhere. 

“Rough day?” And _Cailleach_ , Crowley knows that voice, would know it anywhere. He can hear the hint of concern underneath the amused tone. 

“Halt.” He sighs. “Were you planning on letting me know you were here, or…?”

There’s a hint of a smirk in Halt’s voice when he speaks. “It’s not like you to be so distracted. I assumed you’d already realized I was here.” Halt eyes him, the corners of his mouth turning up a little. “Is the age getting to you?"

Crowley rolls his eyes, turning back to his papers. “Very funny. I’ll have you know that I am  _ just  _ as spry as I used to be. Did you need something? I  _ do  _ have work to do, you know.” That’s a bit of an understatement. His desk is a mess of different requests and reports from all different people and places, and he really has to focus. Halt moves to lean against his desk, arms crossed and facing him.

“I sent you a letter two weeks ago telling you I’d be here today. Did you forget?” Halt is just looking down at him, eyebrow raised, and Crowley feels his stomach sink. Words start to spill out of his mouth.

“Fuck, Halt, I’m sorry- I just- it’s so busy around here all the time and I swear I didn’t meant to forget there’s just a lot I have to get done today, the mission reports are coming in faster than I can send them back-”

“Crowley-” 

“-and I know I have to finish drafting replies soon and half of them are late anyways and I really should be able to handle this-”

“ _ Crowley- _ ”

“-We can reschedule our date, I know you’re busy and I’m really sorry I-”

“ _ Crowley! _ ” Halt cuts him off and gently tugs his hands out of his hair- he hadn’t even realized he’d been pulling at it- and squeezes them a little bit. He reaches down to run his fingers through Crowley’s hair soothingly. “Crowley, I’m not mad. It’s okay.” Halt’s voice is uncharacteristically soft, and Crowley, well. 

He bursts into tears.

Halt sighs, silently pulling Crowley up and into his arms. “I always tell you to take breaks and ask for help. This is what happens when you don’t listen to me.” Halt’s voice is gruff, and the smell of his cloak is so achingly comforting, and maybe Crowley clings a little. He thinks he’s earned a little clinging, okay? 

“This is a one-off time. Don’t go getting a big head.” Crowley’s words are hard to make out underneath the sniffles, but Halt hears him just fine.

“I can think of a few examples.” Halt’s hand is rubbing his back now. Crowley buries his head in Halt’s shoulder. 

“Try me.” Crowley’s reply is muffled through the fabric. 

“Nelra, Teutlandt.”

“You got lucky.”

“Cape Van, Sonderland.”   
  
“A fluke.”

“Toudribir, Skandia. A month ago.”

Crowley huffs, pulling away from Halt a little. “Oh, come on! How was I to know that they had archers stationed behind the walls?”

Halt raises an eyebrow. “Nonetheless, I was right.” He tilts Crowley’s face down towards him, and studies his features. “Feeling better now?” He asks quietly. 

Crowley smiles softly. “Much, thank you.”

“Good.” Halt pulls him back in for a kiss. His stubble is scratchy against Crowley’s skin, but he doesn’t mind, just leans into Halt. Crowley eventually pulls away, moving back to his desk. 

“I just have to finish this- hey!” Crowley yelps as Halt huffs, bodily pulling him away from the papers and dumping him into bed. “I’ll do it. Just get some rest.”

Crowley’s expression softens as Halt takes a seat at his desk, quickly getting to work. “I love you,” he says quietly. The scratching of quill on paper pauses.

“I love you too,” comes the reply, familiar as anything. 

Crowley lies awake for a while after that, but eventually, exhaustion takes over, and he surrenders to sleep. 

And, well, if the replies from Headquarters are signed ‘Halt’ from time to time, the other Rangers aren’t going to say anything.

**Author's Note:**

> fuck yeah, cralt
> 
> edit: hey yall! crowley's gods, the gods he invokes in this fic, are all https://archiveofourown.org/users/thursday11/pseuds/thursday11 thursday11's headcanons, babey! not mine :) go check them out! they're p cool, special thanks to them for helpin me out


End file.
